Burden of a Miracle
by IncognitoTBT
Summary: "Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Abraham Lincoln, 16th US President. Homeworld Multiverse SI.
1. Entry I (Revised)

A/N: Edited Entry I. As Guest as pointed out, the monologue was... lacking, so, since I've been having a writer's block for my Entry II, decided to re-write and update Entry I. Personally feels this version is better.

Enjoy!

* * *

AI HAVOC Mission Log Entry

Begin Entry

[Incoming Transmission Detected. Distance: Unknown. Sender: CLASSIFIED. Receiving Transmission Now.]

[Transmission Received. Activating Virus Scan Now.]

[Scanning...]

[Scan Complete: No Virus Detected. Decrypting Message...]

[Decryption Complete. Message Acknowledged. Proceeding...]

[Scanning [USER]...]

[Scan Complete.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Vitals: OKAY.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Suit Integrity: OKAY.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Mental Integrity: VULNERABLE.]

[WARNING!: Non-Existent Psychic Shield Barrier Detected! Priority Alert: Secure [USER] From Extra-Dimensional OMEGA COLD Class Threats In Accordance Of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE C!]

[WARNING Acknowledged. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[Scanning Local Area, Range: [5,000 KM]...]

[Scan Complete.]

[Scan Conclusion: Local Area, Range: [5,000 KM]: CLEAR. THREAT LEVEL MINIMAL.]

[WARNING!: Vented Atmosphere Detected! Priority Alert: Activate Vessel's Life-Support System To Ensure Short Term Completion Of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE A.]

[WARNING!: Zero-G Environment Detected! Priority Alert: Activate Vessel's Primary And Secondary Artificial Gravity Generators To Ensure Long Term Completion of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE A.]

[WARNING!: Unpowered Vessel Detected! Inactivated Weapon Systems Detected! Non-Existent Mass Psychic Shield Barrier Detected! Priority Alert: Activate Vessel's Power Nodes To Ensure Completion Of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE A, OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE B, And OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE D And Secure Vessel From Extra-Dimensional OMEGA COLD Class Threats In Accordance Of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE C!]

[WARNINGS Acknowledged. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[AI Conclusion: For Continued Operation, [AI HAVOC] Requires Access To Psychic Shield Generator LANTERN In Order To Fulfill OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE C. AI Threat Analysis: OMEGA COLD Class Threats And Up.]

[Threat Level Verified And Confirmed. Construction Of Psychic Shield Generator LANTERN Is Authorized, Pending Security Code.]

[Security Code: Iota-Xi-Eta-Upsilon.]

[Code Accepted. Psychic Shield Generator LANTERN Authorized.]

[Uploading LANTERN...]

[Upload Complete.]

[Integrating LANTERN To [USER]'s Armor System...]

[Integration Of LANTERN Complete. Psychic Shield Barrier Added To [USER]'s Armor System. OMEGA COLD Class Threats To [USER]'s Mental Integrity Neutralized.]

[Scanning [USER]...]

[Scan Complete.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Vitals: OKAY.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Suit Integrity: OKAY.]

[Scan Conclusion: [USER]'s Mental Integrity: OKAY.]

[WARNING Dismissed. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[Final AI Conclusion: Operation Is GREEN For Entry. Repeat, Operation Is GREEN For Entry.]

[Mission Update: Awake [USER] From Cold Sleep And Escort [USER] To Vessel's Central Command Core To Secure Vessel From OMEGA COLD Class Threats, As Per OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE C.]

[Mission Update Acknowledged.]

[Proceeding...]

[Accessing [USER]'s Cryocell Control...]

[Access Denied. Insufficient Power. Activating Plasma Cutter...]

[Cutting Cryocell Door Now. Initiating Emergency Wake-Up Protocols Now...]

[Wake-Up Protocols Complete.]

[Cutting Complete. Removing Door...]

[Door Removed.]

[Standing By...]

* * *

The suit was the first clue that should have ticked me off.

It was black chrome, lackluster and skintight, covering me from the neck down to my feet. A helmet with a blue T-shaped visor was nestled on my head, the built-in heads-up display showing me a transparent diagram of myself to the left, scrolling strings of codes on the bottom right, and alien symbols flashing on the upper right corner.

Needless to say, they were not pajamas.

I gave a sudden surprised jerk, but my limbs could hardly move. I lifted my head and saw I was strapped down to a metal plank that barely fit inside the incredibly dark and barren cubicle I'm being held in, my visor providing the only source of light. In front of me was a blank screen inside the ceiling above, the words CRYOCELL 89 painted next to it in big blocky letters.

I drew in a deep, calming breath. Okay. I'm being held inside some kind of cell. Aside from the impossible fact that, somehow, I'm no longer in my bed or wearing the clothes I _clearly_ remember putting on, I'm… actually quite alright.

No headaches...no migraines or anything. I don't feel any soreness or injuries, and...I feel great, actually. Like I've been given a shot of a superhuman serum and let out to arm wrestle me some bears.

Okay. That's...good. Now, next question: is there any way to free myself?

I looked around. Not...really. My hands and feet were bound by some kind of black material, and there were nothing in here that I could use even if I could. Just the plank I'm on, the empty screen, and, if I stretched my head to look up, the round door which I presumed to be the entrance.

I scowled to myself. How the bloody heck was I supposed to free myself? By magic?

Suddenly, around the edges of my vision, an orange light flickered, then flared into a bright light. I twisted my neck to look up. Someone, or _something,_ was cutting a molten line in the shape of a circle through the door.

What?

The line met up to create a circle, just like I predicted, and it disappeared, showing in its place a weird boxy silhouette and a single, dim light at its center. With a lurch, I was brought out of my cell, still strapped to the plank. When I passed through the hole, I looked around, trying to get a grasp of my new -

 _Holy Moses._

I ignored the giant floating robot that was pulling me out and instead focused on taking in the sights of my new surroundings.

 _Woah._

Where ever I was, it was big. Like, really, _really_ big, with the only source of light coming from my visor. There was a giant, _humongous_ wall I was inside where there were _thousands_ of little circle doors similar to mine, arranged in neat rows going on above, below, and besides me as I far as the light could extend and then some. Just the damned scale of this one wall made my jaw drop in absolute awe. I twisted to look behind me to see _another_ wall just like mine _and_ the huge space between me and it… it nearly gave me a damned heart attack just out of the bloody _size_ of the entire thing.

A thought passed through my stunned mind as the robot moved to cut off the straps from my limbs: _I'm pretty sure this ain't my bedroom._

"Where am I?" I asked out loud.

A line appeared on my visor slightly above the strings of codes. It was written in an almost runic script that's vaguely familiar, but still foreign.

The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on its end, and I felt a tremor of - _Ow_.

If I could, I would've been rubbing the back of my neck right now, but as it is, I had to ride through the wave of - _Owie_. Shaking my heads, I opened my eyes and saw all those weird glyphs and runes morph into words I could actually understand.

Huh. A translator, perhaps? But how does that even work? Is it a program, and if so, where -?

I shook my head. Not now. Thinking later, reading now.

[Cryocell 89, Column 172, Row 210, Block B, Cyro Tray C.]

Without a sound, the last of the straps snapped off and drifted away, and I floated away from the plank at a sedate pace. I yelped in surprise and tried to cling to the plank, but there was a lack of resistance to my movement that caught me off guard. I missed, and instead I cartwheeled in place, around and around and around I go, and again. Everything began to spin faster and faster, and I felt I was going to be sick.

Once upon a time, I wanted to be an astronaut. Now I'd changed my mind for good.

[Please Activate Your Propulsion System For Mobile Operation In Zero-G Environment, [USER].]

It's really hard to read while moving, but I managed. I felt stupid talking to a line of words while spinning, but there was no one else to turn to. Literally. "How?" I asked it. I wished my hands could touch my mouth. I really don't wanna throw up inside my helmet.

[Say "Activate Propulsion System" Inside Helmet, And Your Suit AI Will Automatically Comply.]

This must be a dream. Either that or, I'm really high on drugs right now. And those I...really don't want to think about right now while spinning.

"Activate propulsion system," I choked out. I felt pressure build up behind my back, arms, and legs. Everything in my vision began to slow down, until they finally stopped spinning. I clutched at my helmet and let out a huge breath.

Let me tell you something: Space. _Sucks_. _Especially_ if you don't have any control. _And_ , the air tastes funny. Bleh. Just disgusting.

I opened one eyes to see more texts floating before me.

[To Move, Think It, And Suit AI Will Automatically Adjust Your Course.]

Right. Thank you. That's nice to know.

I thought of approaching the plank like I was floating on wings, and I felt myself slowly drift back to where I was, next to the robot.

I'm pretty certain it's friendly. Must be the fact it hasn't tried to kill my dream-self. Yet.

Now that I have the time to actually look, I could take a better view of the robot. It was roughly in the shape of a box, with two appendages hanging from the bottom. A single… "eye," I suppose, stared at me with a dull white light, and the main body was colored with dried and flaking yellow and grey paint.

Alright. Time for introduction, I think.

"Uh, hi." I said, giving the robot a small wave. "Who are you?"

Lame-oh. Zero out of ten, would not try again.

Heh, see what I did there? I made a - Shutting up now.

[Identification: Hyper Adaptive Veracious Omniscient Combatant AI. HAVOC. Serial Number: 9147-HVC-20320-Alpha. Michael Class Self-Correcting Sentient Electronic/Cyber Warfare Combat Support Unit, Attached To Support Current [USER] And/Or [VIP]. Currently Commandeering Maintenance Drone [CHARLIE-B1] To Achieve Current Mission Objective.]

I looked at the - I looked at HAVOC. "That was you? With the tips and all?" I asked.

[Affirmative.]

So, does that mean he saw me when I…?

Oh. Well. That's embarrassing.

Alright, Ben. Just stay calm, and you'll salvage your pride. Just act natural and...wing it, I guess?

"Soooooo," I drawled, looking around. "What's your objective right now?" Please take the bait, please take the bait, please take the bait….

[Mission Objective: Awake [USER] From Cold Sleep And Escort [USER] To Vessel's Central Command Core To Secure Vessel From OMEGA COLD Class Threats, As Per OVERRIDING OBJECTIVE C.]

Oh, thank you, God! "Who's the User?" I asked.

HAVOC looked at me. [You.]

What? That's - doesn't even - I mean - Oh, come on! This doesn't even make sense! I mean, are you seriously going to expect me to believe that? Seriously?

I then remembered where exactly I found myself. Inside a cell...out of my bed...my home...without me even knowing...and….

You know what? I'm just gonna roll with this. I can question my sanity later, once I actually have time to think.

"Alright," I said, "Where's the Command Core?"

HAVOC rose up, clinging close to the wall. [Follow.]

Well, what else was I supposed to do? I followed after him. Him? It? Meh. Doesn't matter.

We rose up, passing by numerous cells on the way, until we came by an emergency hatch, with the words Maintenance Tunnel 520C-2A next to it. HAVOC extended an appendage with a cutting torch and grasped the door's internal handle with the other. He proceeded to cut a circle through the hatch, toss it away, and went in. I looked behind me, and I watched as the light receded, plunging the cryocells into darkness.

I shivered. Scary.

I pulled myself in after HAVOC. The tunnels...was something you expect from your standard science fiction: cramp rectangular hallways, light strips, boring gunmetal grey, other hatches and handles set at intervals, and all that jazz. There wasn't any real room for me to just drift peacefully in, so I had to crawl, wiggle, climb, and back down again before I caught up with him. I lost track, but my suit hadn't, placing it in a little corner for me to see at my leisure.

Thirteen...Fourteen...Fifteen….How deep are we going again? Shoot, forgot to ask. A thought struck me. HAVOC never really answered where we were exactly, did he?

"Hey, HAVOC," I asked, "Where are we?"

[Maintenance Tunnel 525C-2B, On Floor 72A.]

I waved his answer aside. "No. I meant, what are we, exactly? Like are we in a spaceship? Or a space station? And how did you get here? How about me? And what was that about 'Omega Cold' class threats?"

HAVOC paused before he replied.

[Currently Inhabiting Vessel. Location Unknown. Origins Of [AI HAVOC]: Unknown. ERROR!: Memory Corruption Detected! Origins Of [USER]: Unknown. ERROR!: Memory Corruption Detected!]

I gave HAVOC the look. Well that's not reassuring. At all. "Do you at least know this vessel's name?"

[Affirmative. Vessel Identification: [PRIDE OF HIIGARA], Mothership-class Supercapital Ship. Currently Unpowered And Abandoned. Completion Of Current Mission Objective Will Rectify.]

I wracked my brain for answers, but nothing came up. That name… it's… maddeningly familiar to me. I know I should recognize it, but… I don't.

I shrugged. If I don't remember, then I'll probably will later on. At least it explains why there are no other lights or people, despite the cells. It doesn't answer how he and me got here, but it's a start. But I was wondering on what he meant about how he was going to accomplish his objectives. "And the Omega threats?"

[Identification: OMEGA COLD Class Threats: Any And All Supernatural And/Or Foreign Abilities And Their Hosts Capable Of Mental Tampering And Enforcing Impossible Behaviors Not Native And Beneficial To Designated [USER] And/Or Victim. Any Hostiles Classified As OMEGA COLD Should Be Dealt With Accordingly.]

"And what would that be?"

I have a sinking feeling that I know what it is…

[Exterminate With Extreme Prejudice.]

Welp. I was right. Can't say I'm surprised.

"So, to summarize," I said, letting go of the nearest handles to count off the tips of my fingers, "we are stranded on a derelict Mothership with no way out and no idea how we got stranded in the first place or where we are."

I ticked off another finger. "The only plan we have is to basically hotwire an extremely complicated and hopelessly sophisticated spaceship, and then somehow taking command of said spaceship to get to the nearest hospitable world when we don't know where we are in the first place."

" _And_ ," I ticked off a third finger, "there might be eldritch abominations ready to eat our collective faces off. And we have no means of defense except your blow torch and my fist."

[Correction: Local Area, Range [5,000 KM] Clear Of All Hostiles. Threat Level Minimal.]

"Your optimism is noted, HAVOC." I snarked back.

[Acknowledged.]

Oh, for Pete's sake, I was being… No, wait. Nevermind. I'm talking to a robot after all. A robot, I must remind myself, that's _sentient_ , not _sapient_. There's a big difference between the two.

Trust me on that. I've spent enough time writing to know the difference.

HAVOC stopped. I grabbed the nearest handle and willed my suit to cease as well. He peered down at the emergency hatch on the ground right before us.

[Here.]

With a sharp flare and a few seconds, the hatch came away. HAVOC pushed it aside, sending it spinning inward, and floated down, with me following him.

When my feet touched the ground, I took a look around. It was a nondescript hallway, with a door on one end and then going on forever behind me. White, vaguely oval around the edges, and impeccably clean. You know. The usual.

HAVOC was at the door, except this time instead of cutting his way through, he was hooking up a bunch of dinky wires to the control panel linked to his undercarriage. I'm pretty certain I don't wanna know where he got them.

"What are you doing?" I asked HAVOC.

[Restoring Power To Door Leading To Central Command Core. Temporary Solution At Best. Stand By.]

With a sudden flash of bright sparks, the panel turned on, going from a blank screen to a white one, to red, then yellow, followed by green, and then finally settled down to blue.

[Power Restored. Entering Password Now.]

He put in the password, and with a flourish, the door parted open. HAVOC and I went inside. I took one quick look -

Something clicked in my head, and my heart dropped straight down to my stomach.

In the center stood an empty platform, with a metal band encircling it suspended in mid-air. On the ceiling was a gigantic techno-looking _something_ \- some kind of generator I would guess - that wouldn't look too out of place inside my Dad's computer, if miniaturized. Attached to it was a series of wires and cables floating in zero-g. All in all, for something inside a spaceship, it was… kinda underwhelming.

Not to me, it wasn't. Because I recognize that platform, and, now my memory has been jolted, the ship's name. And I know where I am. Or, at least, the immediate vicinity

The _Pride of Hiigara_. The Hiigarans' flagship of the RTS game, _Homeworld 2_.

The world seemed to spin, and I had to grab a nearby wall in order to support myself.

 _Homeworld_. A three-dimensional science fiction real time strategy game set in space. I have never played the original or _Cataclysm_ , but I did played _Homeworld 2_ and, later on, watched my younger brother go through the missions yoinking enemy ships left and right in the Remastered Collection version. It… it really was a mesmerizing game.

And now I'm here, and either I'm hallucinating 'cuz of I did something really stupid, or this is full-blown on dream that just absolutely beat everything I have ever dreamed about before. But the senses… the taste, the sight, the smell, the texture… it's… so real.

This… is the kind of thing that happens in fanfiction. And of the three - being a hallucination, a dream, or actually real, like in fanfiction - I'm not so sure which I would rather prefer. Or should be afraid of.

It's always fun fantasizing about yourself being inside your favorite universe. Reality, on the other hand, has a nasty habit of hiding a darker side.

I stared at the platform, and I questioned my grasp on reality. Is this real? Is it not?

I touched my helmet, and I looked at my suit. And like a lightning bolt, I realized I should have known what, exactly, I was wearing. This...this was a design I've made for a suit. A random doodle, really, but it had always stuck with me. And now it's real, and I'm wearing it inside the _Pride of Hiigara._

Is this real? Or is this fake? And at the back of my mind, I wondered: Should it matter?

My eyes gazed at the platform, and, for the briefest of moment, I saw myself suspended inside that circle, connected to Pride and one of the Unbound. I squeezed my eyes shut, and I clenched my fists together.

No. No, it shouldn't, but it does. Because it either be real or not, but I can't really see which way it is. The world has just been turned upside down, and now I don't know what to do.

There was a forum I once frequent, and it holds plenty of excellent fanfiction where the author find him/herself inside the universe of their dream - and having to deal with the reality of it. They were fun to read, and I always wanted to try my hand in it.

Self Inserts, as they were called, uses a literary device often called the Random Omnipotent Being - or Bastard, depending on who you're talking to - by the members of the forum, though most of them just use the acronym: ROB.

I think I have a pretty good idea whose fault this was, and it wasn't ROB.

The chances that what is happening to me has been decided by another me in an alternate universe who just want to write a good story are… slim. But then again, what were the odds of nearly four billion years worth of evolution would result in me?

What can I say? Read a good enough stories, and sooner or later, you get paranoid.

And either this is a dream, or this is real, but I can't tell, and I don't know what to do.

There's either go along with HAVOC, or wait for a miracle to happen - like waking up. Two choices left up to me.

But there's a sinking feeling building up inside my stomach, and… and I'm scared now. About this. About the _Pride of Hiigara_. HAVOC. Everything's going so fast that I can't even keep up now, and I'm scared. I'm not home. My parents aren't here. My siblings aren't with me, and I have no friends to share their thoughts or provide some advice for me. Just me and myself. And HAVOC.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And I never felt so small and lonely before than right now.

I didn't blame God. I knew better than to demand an explanation from my God. I'm Catholic, and if there's one thing my parents did right, it was driving what exactly the Church stood for and teaches. And besides, I knew whose fault it was. I did the Sign of the Cross and gave Him a quick prayer.

God, please help me. Amen.

I swallowed and glanced at HAVOC, then at the platform. I could either go with HAVOC or wait. Two choice left up to me.

There's really no choice involved here.

"Well." I tried to say with a smile, but I think I did it wrong. "Screw you, my alternate dimensional self."

And I stepped onto the platform.

* * *

Resume Entry

[Mission Objective: Escort [USER] To Vessel's Central Command Core To Secure Vessel From OMEGA COLD Class Threats. Status: PENDING...]

[Scanning Local Area, [PRIDE OF HIIGARA]...]

[Scan Complete.]

[Scan Conclusion: Artificial Gravity Generators: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Engines: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Hyperspace Core: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: LANTERN Psychic Shield Generator: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Life-Support System: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Phased Disassembler Array: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Power Nodes: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Research Facility: ONLINE.]

[Scan Conclusion: Weapon Systems: ONLINE.]

[WARNINGS Dismissed. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[AI Conclusion: [FLEETCOM] Now Active. Mission Objective Completed. Awaiting New Objectives.]

[Incoming Transmission Detected. Distance: Unknown. Sender: CLASSIFIED. Receiving Transmission Now.]

[Transmission Received. Activating Virus Scan Now.]

[Scanning...]

[Scan Complete: No Virus Detected. Decrypting Message...]

[Decryption Complete. Message Acknowledged. Proceeding...]

[New Mission Objective.]

[Mission Objective: Obey Current [FLEETCOM].]

[Mission Objective Acknowledged. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[Final AI Conclusion: Acknowledged. Awaiting Further Orders From [FLEETCOM].]

[Standing By...]

End Entry


	2. Entry II

A/N: Wow. Holy smokes. 5.5K words. Was not expecting it to be that long. But hey! Finished at last!

Overall, I'm feel this is decent, though there are scenes I felt that should be ironed out before releasing, but I felt I delayed long enough as it is. Sigh.

Be warned: my update schedule is still and probably will remain totally out of whack, but hopefully the next few Entries will come sooner than the last one. No promises, though. Maybe after this week; have an English research essay to complete now.

Commentaries and criticism are welcomed. Also would like help in how to keep the original format when I copy and paste, because I hate having to crawl through my story to change HAVOC's font.

Enjoy!

Entry II

I watched HAVOC as he hovered over my body, courtesy of a little video window on my HUD. In it, an exact replica of my suit stood inside the center of the platform, head's straight, arms and legs apart. A series of wires and cables protruded from where the base of my spine should be and the back of the helmet HAVOC gently tended to, the thick cords going on up, and up, and up to that giant generator thingie above me.

For barely being awake for an hour, things are going remarkably swell.

It's… strange, really, to see something so bizarre happening to yourself, and not feel it. If it wasn't for my suit and blue-tinted vision, I would have had to remind myself that the scene before me is actually happening right here, right now, and isn't some creepy sci-fi knockoff.

It certainly doesn't feel like it.

"Hey, HAVOC," I said, "How long is this going to take?"

[One Minute And Four Point Twenty Two Seconds, [USER].]

I nodded once and waited.

Usually, I would've questioned the wisdom of hijacking something like the Mothership by giving it a direct line to my brain. Of course, usually, I would've been questioning my grasp on reality if I truly believe myself to be inside something as hopelessly impossible as the Mothership, with an honest-to-God artificial intelligence with me. Which I apparently do. And I'm not sure how I should feel about it.

I stared at the back of my hand, covered in the same black chrome material as the rest of my body. After a few moments, I flexed my fingers and watched as the muscles and veins rippled across my glove, before bringing my gaze back to the video on my HUD. Thinking.

I felt numb. Apathetic. Detached. As if everything is coming to me through a filter, and now I just couldn't bring myself to care anymore. No, that's not the right word I was looking for. More like... clinical. Intellectually, I know I'm no longer home, and intellectually, I know this shouldn't be real, but… I just didn't feel the loss that I think I should feel.

It's freaking weird, considering the fact I was panicking like a headless chicken just a few minutes ago. I can still feel emotions lurking underneath the surface: nervousness, maybe a bit of curiosity. But for the most part, I was… calm, quite honestly. Like as if I jack myself to some alien hardware every other Tuesday. And the fact that I didn't cared - not _quite_ like that, but close enough - made me cared that I didn't cared, and… it's… unsettling, to say the least.

Should this be happening? This… apathy? Or was I always like this, but never had the opportunity to be made apparent? Or maybe I'm feeling some kind of drug that HAVOC or my suit may have pumped me with? Heck if I know. I'm the clueless teenager, remember? The extent of my knowledge about psychology only goes as far as reading a bunch of Self Insert fanfictions as they go off to conquer the multiverse with tea, crumpets, and munchkinry. Which isn't much.

[Procedure Complete. Awaiting Order To Commence, [USER].]

I blinked as the text flashed twice, before letting out a sigh. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do if this works. What, go to the nearest system, build up a fleet, and go planet-hopping until I find my way home? I mean, it's not like I even know where I am right now. Hell, for all I know, HAVOC could be lying to me and I'm really being set up by crazy kidnapping aliens, or -

I mentally shook my head; I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I need to avoid having my brain fried from whatever security measures the Hiigarans slapped onto the pride and joy of their Navy _before_ even worrying about the future. Wild speculation isn't going to cut it if I want to live.

Alright. I need to get my game plan on. Right now, there's a vast amount of unknown out there, and despite what people might tell you, ignorance does kill. Far better to assume everything is out to get me until proven otherwise. And maybe not even then.

You just gotta love paranoia. Makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

So naturally, that means I need to build a freaking huge navy with the Mothership as quickly and as swiftly as possible. That means I need to get my bearings, fast, scan the local system I'm in, and build my base in a hotspot of materials I could find. Since I only have the _Pride of Hiigara_ and whatever else I could scrounge, I'm going to be weak and vulnerable to hostiles right at the start. Best to avoid all contacts with intelligent life until I'm ready and either chase them out if I'm not or vamoose to a new system and try again. Maybe send a warning if I could, but that's up for debate.

Okay, sounds simple enough. Better hop to it.

"Understood." I said. "You may proceed, HAVOC."

A part of me is still confused on how I let him talked me into this stupid plan of his, though.

[Affirmative. Beginning Neural Connection In 3…]

A low whine started up above me, getting louder and louder, causing me to sway a little inside the platform. A shiver of fear race down my spine.

[2…]

I wondered for a moment where my family is and how they are doing right now. Will they notice that I'm gone? Or would my body be under a coma? Then I wondered what it would be like, being a vegetable. Would I dream something like this, or would I just be unaware?

[1…]

And then at the back of my mind, I thought, _Is this worth it?_

[Initiating Neural Connection Now.]

I felt something suddenly scream like a raging torrent, rushing its way into my skull with the force of nature, and it ripped its way downward to my spine, spreading out everywhere and touching every last fiber and soul of my very being, and I couldn't _think_ , I couldn't _scream_ , it was all much too _fast_ , and then my vision _twisted_ and I-

[Neural Connection Successful.]

\- Opened my eyes, and _breathed_.

I stood alone in the empty vacuum of space, feeling the gentle caress of the solar winds against my hull.

I could hear the rhythms of my heartbeat and power generators intertwining together, a twin sensation that felt both strange yet natural to me in the space of a handful of seconds I was aware for.

I could taste the savage thrill of raw, unadulterated power rushing in my veins, intoxicating in its touch.

Information pooled into my mind, vast in all its multitude and potency, yet it was not the hurricane like it was before but more of a gentle wave, and so I welcomed them. Scanners constantly inserted fresh data into my mind, constantly updating my perception of my immediate surroundings, which ranges from mental images to colors I would've previously scarcely comprehend to just instinctively knowing where everything is. I could feel the heat of my engines as they cycled to life, and I marveled at the incredible amount of power and efficiency that it pulses with, harnessing energy that I knew to be more than beyond my homeland's level of technology.

Weapon systems panned and tracked nearby targets, ready to unleash their devastating payloads at my command. Machines and servos whirred as they awoke from their stupor, cleaning and repairing the Mothership - myself - from the time it has spent abandoned to its fate, while breathable air and artificial gravity reasserts themselves inside me. In the docking bays of my hangar, six Resource Harvesters, two squadrons of Scouts, and an Interceptor stirred to life at my awakening.

And deep in the recess of the Mothership, I could hear the Hyperspace Core growled in content. A Progenitor Far Jump Core, primed and ready for launch.

And underneath all these layers upon layers of data, of cold, calculating machines and raw numbers flowing and collecting inside my head, I could feel a smile tugging at the edge of my lips.

For a single moment, I could see the universe in all its glory and my place within it. Beckoning to me.

And I reveled in it.

HAVOC opened a direct channel to me. [Awaiting Your Orders, [FLEETCOM].]

I blinked and shook off the giddiness. Oh. Whoops. Can't believe I forgot about HAVOC.

It took just a tiny bit of will to reply through his channel. You're an E-War AI, right, HAVOC?

[Affirmative.]

Alright. Can you monitor and coordinate the, uh, _-_ I took a quick glance at the reservoir of knowledge given to me _-_ ECM and ECCM of all my ships, please?

[Commands Acknowledged. Complying.]

Okay, I got that out of the way. Now I won't have to micromanage my own ships' electronic warfare defenses by my lonesome. Once I have more time to myself, I can experiment to what limits the onboard AIs could and could not do, but for now, this will have to do.

Onto my next step. I eyed my surroundings and conducted a deeper scan. I wondered where, exactly, the Mothership landed and hoped it would make a suitable base.

I was immediately disappointed.

The system I currently inhabit, though unoccupied, was extremely unsatisfactory in terms of raw resources. Though, to be fair, to call it a star system would be an incredibly inaccurate statement. It was more like a patch of space at the center of the galaxy sparsely populated with flicks of rocks and ice scattered here and there than, you know, having an actual star, much less a planet.

We just can't have everything on a silver platter, now can we?

Okay, so it's quite clear I won't be here for long. No planets, no stars, and no meaningful sources of resources. So, yes, definitely wouldn't be staying here for long now. Hope the next one will go better than here. But where?

I plucked an image of a star chart hidden within the bowels of the Mothership's database and scrutinized it. An interlacing web of stars appeared in my mind, highlighted with tiny tags and icons, pointing out key features of this galaxy. The Galactic Core, where a cheeky little _You Are Here_ sign pointed to. The Inner Rim. The Mid Rim. The Great Wastelands. And last but certainly not least, the Outer Rim.

I zoomed in, bypassing thousands upon thousands of signatures, until I came upon only the most important ones. Around the edge of the Whirlpool Galaxy, I spied Kharak. Near the Core, Hiigara. And right smack dab in the middle of it all was a cluster of black holes, called Balcora. Which according to a certain blue blinking icon, is where I am.

Of _freaking_ course. Because where else could I possibly find myself in?

Really makes you wonder on how I could miss something like that, quite honestly.

I checked the map to see how much it changed my - and, yep, course it does. Balcora is a black hole strong enough to eliminate Hyperspace travel within a five hundred light year radius. So, getting out of here through Hyperspace is a no go.

Yippee-yah-freaking-doo. I'm loving this job already.

Quick check. If I remember my lore right, Balcora is where the Progenitor super-dreadnought _Sajuuk_ was located. The Hiigarans managed to fight off the Vagyr here and claimed _Sajuuk_ as their own personal white knight to save their damsel in distress, Hiigara, before running off with her on their magical pony to the sunset. But before they could do that, they first had to transport their Hyperspace Core to the super-dreadnought and abandon the Mothership in the process.

Should I interfere here? I thought about it for a minute before deciding against it. No, no I shouldn't. They have _Sajuuk_ , which is already overpowering enough. And what use would I bring to their war which they don't have? The Hiigarans got their win-cannon, and they got their reinforcements. And bloody heck, for all I know, the war might be over already. No counting for how long the _Pride_ been drifting in here before I came along.

Which largely frees me to… do what I want, really. And once I'm out of here, I'll figure that one out. Eventually. After I build up a fleet of death lazors and everything.

I paused. If the _Sajuuk_ is gone, then how come the _Pride of Hiigara_ still has her Hyperspace Core? I mused on it for a bit before shaking my head. I can find out later once I'm not stuck in the middle of a black hole. Or maybe not. It's not like I would find answers to figure out how _I_ found myself here, never mind something as trivial as a Hyperspace Core.

Priorities, man. Gotta set my priorities straight.

First thing first, though. The Hiigarans had to have a way to get out of here, because how else were they able to save their homeworld? The question, though, is, how? I _think_ S'jet just went straight from Balcora to Hiigara, but I'm not quite sure.

Ugh. This is what happens when you never finish the game and instead look it up on Wikia. You miss out on all the important little details.

I stared hard at the galactic map, running through the scenarios before sighing. Can't get out at FTL speed, because I'm stuck in the middle of a bloody black hole. Can't get out at STL speed, because sublight speed is, surprise, surprise, most certainly _not_ faster than light. In short, there's no way out.

I'm stuck here, aren't I? Unless I'm willing to risk it. Which... looks like something I'll have to do anyways. Lovely.

Fine, then. FTL it is. Best to check up on all my systems before I go to my death. Hate to die simply because something otherwise easily averted went wrong at precisely at the wrong time.

I don't believe in luck. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and what many attributes to luck or fate is more often than not a result of cause and effect. God doesn't do things half-heartedly, you know.

All system check. Gravity generators, online. Engines, burning hot. Hyperspace Core, online. LANTERN Psychic Shield - wait, what? Psychic Shield Generator? Since when did we have _that?_

HAVOC, what is this?

[Identification: LANTERN Psychic Shield Generator: Psychic Generator Used To Prevent Any And All [USER]'s Capture And/Or Cease Of Existence By OMEGA COLD Class Threats. Standard Operating Equipment For All Personnel.]

Right. Of course. So where exactly did you get this? And are there anymore goodies you can get for me?

[Negative. Access Denied. Reason: Classified Intel. Insufficient Security Clearance.]

Seriously? Aren't I, like, your superior officer or something? So shouldn't I be able to access everything you have available?

[Negative. AI [HAVOC] Does Not Have The Sufficient Security Clearance To Comply With [FLEETCOM]'s Request.]

I grumbled. So HAVOC's been holding out on me, since we do, in fact, have some tech than _Homeworld_ , assuming that I could get my hands on it. Unfortunately, though, I can't due to 'security clearance,' but it's definitely something worth pursuing over. Later, though.

I better _not_ die from this, dammit, before I have a chance to look at this.

So, the, uh, LANTERN generator is online. Life support's running at full capacity. Ditto for the Phased Disassembly Array, and the power generators are all fine and dandy. Research and development is in acceptable level, especially considering the lack of meat docs and scientists onboard, but I can make do with what I have. (Heh. Can't wait until I pop out the Salvage Corvettes like confetti…) And weapon systems running at full charge. All systems online and running at peak efficiency.

Yah. Now to pray not dying a horrible death because of gravity.

I summoned the star chart again and, with a thought, dismissed most of them until only a smattering of them remained. I focused my attention to one star at a time, jumping between one after another after running a detailed search I tailored to my specifications, until I selected a single, relatively isolated system near the fringe of the galaxy. A G-class star, with a handful of planets, two asteroid belts, and sufficiently far away to suit my needs. Just to make sure, I double checked my head and ran some programs to make sure my Hyperspace Core could reach it.

It didn't.

I frowned and gave the program a questionable look, before taking out the 500 LY variable it imposed and running it again. This time, the calculations checked out.

Perfect. Now to survive the test drive.

Now, if what I suspect is true, this would normally be the part where, story-wise, the Self Insert protagonist monologue over why, exactly, he (or she, it's not the writers ever really confirm it for you, now do they?) are going to do this incredibly insane and suicidal plan of theirs and why, exactly, their incredibly insane and suicidal plan of theirs will obviously succeed. (Besides plot shield, of course. Or shipping. Bloody shippers...)

Well, do you know how I'll know I'll survive? It's simple. Because plot demands it.

Now, before you get your fire and pitchforks, hear me out. See, I know myself and I know what I would do if I would write a Self Insert like this. And most importantly, I know the recipe for a good story: in a contest between narration and physics, narration breaks physics, hands down. It'd be an absolutely terrible way to start an SI fanfiction if I just kill off the main protagonist right from the get go, especially for an aspiring author like myself. I like writing, it's a dream of mine I'd like to follow, and I pride myself on actually writing actual, you know, _good_ stories.

Is it a cop out answer? Sure. But guess what? I'm just a puppet trying to guess the puppetmaster based on a vague assumption that the puppetmaster is just like the puppet he is puppeting simply because my past experiences as both a reader and as a writer points to it as being the closest to the truth. And if there's one thing I know I am not, it's being an absolute jerk. I'm actually a pretty decent guy all around, and I'd like to think I'd play it fair, even as I set my alternate selves on crazy adventures all for catching the slightest approvals of others.

No mind rape.

No being unexpectedly dropped in insanely dangerous situations.

And sure as Hell no genderbending.

Just me, myself, and whatever tools Eddie, my alternate dimensional wannabe ROB deigns to give me. Everything afterward would just me facing the aftermath. And hey, I got the freaking _Pride of Hiigara_ , of all things. Not too shabby of a toy to get right off the bat. Course, that's just begging what kind of opposition I would meet.

If it's a RomCom, I think I'm gonna scream. And fire. Lots and lots of fire. With gasoline.

I paused, my eyes - sensors, scanners, whatever the heck I'm using - watching the depth of space, staring at nothing in particular.

No. No, I won't say that I know everything, because I don't. I don't know if I'll make it or not. I don't know if this is all just a dream and I don't know if I'll be waking up anytime soon. I just… don't. Everything I just said, everything I just sprouted right off my head, I'm not even sure if it's true. Life isn't a story, where the hero will always come back safe and sound. Life isn't about the individuals, where everything revolves around you, where people you can't see, can't hear, and can't even interact with deeply cares about you and is cheering you on. It's about survival, of what lives and what doesn't, of what _is_ and what _isn't_. It's about the group, about whether this species will live to propagate the next generation, or be left to die in the muck as they become outnumbered and outcompeted by those who do.

Nature doesn't care about the individuals. Only if you live or if you die.

Is it fair? No. But it's just.

But if I am right, if I am correct about this being a Self Insert, then at least I'll have the pleasure of monologuing to an invisible audience. It's fun just to blow off steam by ranting at no one in particular. And it's more... relaxing than I thought, even if you guys can't talk back.

Oh, and for the record, I'm a boy.

I activated the Hyperspace Core, feeding it my destination. With a slight ripple, a rift opened up and enveloped me, sending me into Hyperspace.

Correction. A Hyperspace _bubble_. And a freakin' tiny too, being "only" about an LY or half a dozen from end to end. Everything else is blocked by that big black nopity-nope hole cluster.

Unease welled up inside me as I soared through Hyperspace to the edge of the bubble and then beyond. In here, the "waves," for the lack of a better term, has an almost stale and lifeless taste to me. (Somehow.) Like an ocean that has long since stagnated and its ecosystem left rotting. There was no sounds here, no Music to propagate the great Songs I have already heard about - or, rather, read about. A fact that I found to be frankly disturbing.

The faster I'm out of here, the better I'll be.

I was out faster than in a blink of an eye, popping through whatever barrier that separated the bubble and - _And the Wrath of God plucked me from my perch and smashed me down and tore me apart._

I screamed. I screamed out in mindless absolute terror as I sought an escape, I _had_ to escape, I _couldn't_ die yet, and wiggled, squirmed, maxxed my engines to full, shot, screamed. and burned my way free and more, but I just _couldn't_ , and so I was falling, falling, falling into the abyss, and I -

Resume Entry

[Scanning Local Area, Range [5,000 AU]...]

[Scan Complete.]

[Scan Conclusion: Local Area, Range [5,000 AU]: DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! BLACK COWL THREAT LEVEL DETECTED!]

[WARNING!: Approaching Black Hole Cluster Detected! Priority Alert: Decelerate [VESSEL] In Compliance of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES A, B, And D!]

[WARNING!: Approaching Black Hole Cluster Detected! Priority Alert: Decelerate [VESSEL] In Compliance of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES A, B, And D!]

[WARNING!: Approaching Black Hole Cluster Detected! Priority Alert: Decelerate [VESSEL] In Compliance of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES A, B, And D!]

[WARNING Acknowledged. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[ERROR!: Manual Override Detected! New Directive Established! Correcting Priority Alert!]

[Threat Level Verified And Confirmed. Access To Hyperspace Core Subsystem Transdimensional Gateway EXCEL Is Authorized, Pending Confirmation.]

[Security Code: Iota-Xi-Eta-Upsilon.]

[Code Accepted. Subsystem Transdimensional Gateway EXCEL Authorized.]

[WARNING! Approaching Black Hole Cluster Detected! Priority Alert: Activate EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway In Compliance Of OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES A, B, And D!]

[WARNING Acknowledged. AI Conclusion Updated.]

[AI Conclusion: Activating Subsystem Transdimensional Gateway EXCEL Now. Initiating EXCEL Phase Jump In 3...]

[2...]

[1...]

\- found myself violently ejected out of Hyperspace directly into a field of asteroid.

I stood still, my mind blank as I tried to process what just happened to me. I was vaguely aware of a system reboot, and I barely felt the constant trail of information paused for a split millisecond before resuming its course and providing me an update even as I was still reeling from what happened.

All systems online. Minimal hull damage. Hyperspace Jump interrupted. EXCEL Phase Jump complete. Starting intersystem scan now.

I stared dumbfounded at the scrolling words in front of me, taunting me.

I can't believe it worked.

It worked.

I'm… not sure whether I should be relieved or absolutely giddy after that.

Screw it.

Halle- _freaking_ -lujah! I called it! I totally called it! Wohooo! I did it! I did it! Yeeeeeee-aaaaah! Take that, ya filthy thumb-sucking, hair-twirling sunuvagun! Muhahaha!

Ah. Ah. Ahhhhh.

I closed my eyes and relaxed, feeling the dual and contradictory sensations of my meat-body falling limp and being entirely suspended by special connectors, a smirk gracing my lips, while the _Pride of Hiigara_ slowed down and continues to monitor its nearby surroundings.

I really needed to get all that out of my system, did I? Heh. That was… really satisfying.

A mental _ping!_ rang inside my head, informing me that the scan just finished. Ergh. But I don't wanna…

Herp derp. Back to work now.

Okay, a G-class star, eight planets divided by two asteroid belts. No apparent signs of any interstellar civilizations, so that's good. I was apparently inside the belt closest to the local star - decent size, too, and… uh-oh.

The constellation, according to my scanners, doesn't match anything on my star charts, obsolete charters or not.

Hoo-boy. That's definitely not a good sign.

HAVOC, any ideas?

[Hypothesis: Successful Subsystem EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway Jump.]

Ah, okay, that makes -

Wait.

… Come again?

[Hypothesis: Successful Subsystem EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway Jump. Alternate Identification: EXCEL Phase Jump.]

We... had a transdimensional Hyperspace Core?

[Affirmative.]

I…

Are _you freaking kidding me?!_

 _Are you seriously telling me that I didn't have to go through pants-shatting terror out of that God-freaking-triple-damned black hole because of some casual magical finger-twirling and blatant violation of physics?!_

What. The. _Hell?!_

Alright, fine! Screw you, Eddie! I am done with this! I _quit_! I absolutely _quit_! Go get someone else to be your Goddamned chew toy, how about that?! I am sick and tired of all these random pieces of _crap_ you're throwing around like confetti! How about you just leave _one_ thing consistent throughout this Goddamned trip? How about that, huh? And while we're at that, why not get a little more creative with your acronyms? Because they're absolutely _terrible_! LANTERN? EXCEL? What in the Devil's name were you even _thinking?!_ Because that right there is getting ridiculous! What's next, _My Little Ponies_ references? First you screw up my life, then you dump me in the middle of nowhere and gave me a heart attack and an existential crisis, and now after suffering through a black hole I could've avoided the entire Goddamned thing, you submit me to this badly named gadget of yours?! Well to the Hell with you, mister!

[Scan Conclusion: [FLEETCOM] Suffering Mental Breakdown. Administer Medical Protocols As Per OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES A And B.]

And you! Don't even get me started on you! You could've just told me right off the bat that we had another important hardware up our sleeves, but noooooo, we had to go through almost certain death for you to pull a miracle right out of your ass!

[Objection: EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway Only Became Authorized During Hyperspace Jump.]

No! No, I do not want to hear another word from you! Shut up like a good little boy and think about what you've done, do I make myself clear?! Oh, and while we're at that, how about -

[[FLEETCOM]'s Command Contradict OVERRIDING OBJECTIVES. [FLEETCOM] Is Suffering From Mental Breakdown Due To Recent Events And Is Currently Mentally Incapacitated. Command Overridden. Administering Medical Protocols Now.]

\- A cold rush filled my mind, clearing the red haze, the blind fury that suddenly took me, and I deflated.

I winced as I remember what sprouted out of mouth during my mad rant. Ah… sorry, HAVOC. I… really wasn't in the best state of mind, was I?

It was pitifully inadequate, and I squirmed at the balant understatement.

[Apology Accepted, [FLEETCOM].]

That… actually just makes it even worse. I had to put in real effort to push it from my mind so I could focus on what just recently transpired.

I've… never been angry like that. Where it was just… so loud, and blind, and _intense_. I've never been swept aside by such blind and reckless abandon. Most of the times, they're quiet and subtle, and I really had to think about what I'm feeling before I could identify them. But not this time.

Already, the memory of being angry, that strange sensation of harboring such vast and startlingly hatred was fading from my mind's eye; already, that calm sense of detachment has replaced the murky waters of my previous angry state of being, and I found myself contemplating the drastic and swift changes I went through in only a handful of minutes. Was I always like this that the fact I was angry - no, not angry. _Enraged_ \- I found disturbing? Or did something happened when I was brought to change that?

I dunno. Everything's been going so fast so recently that right now I… dunno. I just started remember? And until the black hole, I was pretty much fine….

Oh. Yeah, the black hole.

I'll be honest. That scared the absolute shit out of me.

I knew I live - lived - a sheltered life, and I knew I've never known what it is like to face real pain, real suffering. I've never been so scared before. I've never been so helpless before.

I don't have the right to complain. I know I shouldn't rant and scream about the unfairness of life when I've always lived a safe and sheltered life, where I had food at the table, a loving family, and being able to live my life when so many others don't. But it's just…

And I…

I…

It just isn't _fair_.

I broke off that line of thought immediately, but already I remembered my father's words. Unbidden, I heard his voice, calm and sardonic, echoing in my ears again. _And so what? Who ever said that life would be fair?_

I gave a dry mental chuckle. I know, Dad. I know.

It's not fair that there are innocent children out there, being abused by those they should trust. It's not fair that so many people are starving, while I get to eat to my heart's content. It's not fair that so many have to die, when they have so much to live for.

But you did say it is just. What the Lord gives, he takes away.

Is this what you and Mom felt, Dad? When you discovered that I had cancer when I was a baby? And yet here I am.

And now look where your son is. Inside a spaceship in the middle of nowhere after trying to Jump through a black hole.

Heh. Ain't life grand?

And now I'm alone, with only an AI called HAVOC and the _Pride of Hiigara_.

Anger sparked inside me, not the blind rage that consumed me but a deep, quiet anger set at myself. Stupid. That was absolutely inexcusable and just bloody stupid of me. I mean, what the heck was I thinking, jumping in feet first without even looking for an alternative in mine or HAVOC's databases? Hell, if I probably asked HAVOC instead of just acting without thinking, we'll probably gotten out of the mess without any brushes with certain death.

Ugh. What the hell was I thinking?

I wasn't, really. And I was fortunate that the consequences were rather light.

Sigh.

I won't be helpless anymore. I won't take stupid risks like that again. I can't afford to. I'm on my own out in the depth of space, with no intel, no support, and no home. This isn't a game where I can restart back to the beginning if I make a mistake. I can run away with my Hyperspace Core and now my EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway, but any time that I spent, any resources that I lose , they can't be replenished. So I have to play hard, fast, and dirty if I want to live amid the vast amount of unknowns that populate the multiverse. And I only have one shot.

For once in my pathetic life, I have to take things seriously. Which, after that latest stunt, shouldn't be so hard to pull.

I released my six Resource Harvesters, two squadrons of Scouts, and a lone Interceptor out into the empty void of space. Almost immediately, the RH crafts settled down on the nearest rock and began harvesting valuable Resource Units, while my strike crafts went to scout out and secure the immediate perimeter.

I won't be helpless anymore. I'm not willing to die just yet. And to do that, I have to play it smart.

Of course, when it comes to a Von Neumann warmachine like the _Pride of Hiigara_ , the definition of "smart" is lasting long enough to drown your opponents in numbers, Red Soviet style. Okay, I mean, sure, it's not as ridiculously Von Neumann as a _Planetary Annihilation_ Commander or a _Supreme Commander_ Armored Command Unit, but it's pretty close. Ish.

The only question now is how exactly much time I have to myself and which universe I swapped places for a black hole. I mean, it's not like Eddie would drop me in the middle of a system that might get invaded by creepy alien space cthulhu or Von Neumanning Commanders, right? He might be kind enough to place me in a peaceful kind of place. Right, guys?

Guys?

Welp.

Best to prepare my defenses ASAP.


	3. Entry III

A/N: So. I'm finally done. Not as big I would've like, but it's done. This Entry is more of a narrative take, so the next few Entries will be more of a general overview. Unfortunately, though, I wasn't able to reveal exactly which 'verse the SI found himself in within just yet, something I was really, really want to reveal. Ah, well. Maybe next time, then.

The update schedule is still out of whack, since I have finals to study for this week. But once that's done, I have the entire summer to go for, so yeah. The only problem is that I might not be on the computer as much I would like so I can actually, you know, update my 'fic. So if this goes quiet for awhile, rest assured that I'm still working on this.

Commentaries and criticism are appreciated. 

Entry III

Exponential growth is ridiculous.

Seriously, think about it. When you have something doubling in an incredibly short time interval, they swiftly become astronomical. One moment, you only have a handful; the next, you got thousands of those suckers crawling all over the place. An ever growing wave ready to crush any and all opposition.

This is what makes PA Commanders so dangerous - they're only one unit, but they're one unit capable of building an exponentially growing infrastructure and its army in minutes. Once they get their base down, it's game over. After that, it's only a matter of time before they'll be able to drown any lesser opposition just through sheer weight of numbers. Combine this with their technology, their reverse engineering capabilities, and their ability to adapt on the fly, and you can see why they are a penchant for Self Inserts of prospecting nerdy writers stomping around the multiverse.

Genre-savvy Commanders. I shivered. What a nightmare they would be.

The Pride of Hiigara isn't meant to be a Commander in Space, though it certainly can be. The Pride of Hiigara was built to be the military command center slash flagship slash mobile shipyard of the Hiigaran Navy, capable of fleet-wide multi-thousand LY-long FTL jaunts. It was supposed to be the spearhead in the assault against the encroaching Vagyr Crusade, and, despite an early setback, it very well succeeded with the discovery of Sajuuk.

And let me tell you something: the production facilities of a forty-five kilometer tall Mothership is nothing to sneeze at.

Sure, I might not be a Von Neumanning warmachine right off the get go like a Commander, but what makes up for it is that the Pride of Hiigara can mass-produce warships simultaneously within itself. One of which, I must remind you, are Carriers I can use to ramp up my build speed even further, since I don't have those pesky unit caps to stifle my dreams of conquest and glory. And let's not even get to what I can use my Resource Harvesters for space construction. There's bound to be all kinds of fascinating schematics in my databases I could use. After all, how do you think they managed to build the Mothership in the first place?

Game mechanics? Bah, who needs game mechanics?

Of course, the only problems with having a fully available infrastructure is that it's resource intensive, and I don't have the workforce to keep up with it. The belt I'm in may be bigger and far more richer than what is bog standard back in the Whirlpool Galaxy, but it doesn't matter how rich the yield may be when I can't increase the speed I'm harvesting at.

So right now I need time. Time to build up my workforce, and time to build my fleet. Considering what happened to me, that may be the one currency that I will never have enough of. The only deciding factors are exactly how much I will get and how it will get interrupted.

I chuckled. No time like the present, then.

First order of business is to get up my economy running at peak efficiency ASAP. I have no real need for strikecrafts and capital ships at the moment; it will just be wasting my Resource Units when I could just spend it on Harvesters to up it, and I'm already quite capable of outrunning anyone likely to ever come. Generate some random coordinates, nope the heck outta there, go explore some bits, and maybe come back later once they're gone.

Progenitors, yoh.

If that doesn't work… then I'm pretty much screwed. But once I got my economy rolling, I'll be churning out ships like no tomorrow. But better slap together some reconnaissance crafts so I have some intel on where I am beforehand.

Freakin' Eddie and his transdimensional schtick.

I queued up a series of Resource Harvesters and glanced to check at the estimated time until completion. One hour and a half each, assuming I have the sufficient RUs. And currently I can only afford six. I gave a mental okay and shivered as my new Harvesters become assembled and constructed in a excruciating sharpness in my mind. Being the first thing that actually happen with the Mothership, I can't say I'm surprised.

It is actually disturbing, feeling starships being built inside your belly. And let me tell you something, being connected to a machine certainly doesn't help. Best for you not to know what other… things I feel as the Mothership. Like how it feels to have life support's air rubbing inside you hallways. Or having machines hooking up onto your back and depositing raw materials for you to process. Or how disturbing it is to be and see two gender separate bathrooms at the same time.

Ugh. Now that's just plain disgusting.

Huh. Wait a minute. If I'm a male, and I'm merged with a ship called the Mothership, does that makes me transgendered? Or would the ship classification change? Like Fathership? Or maybe Brothership? Friendship?

This raises so many questions that it's not even funny.

Screw it. I'm just going to stick with being a male Mothership.

And… that sounds even worse in my head. Fine, fine, then! I'll go with HAVOC and stick with Fleet Command! No more annoying naval schtick of ships being strictly females and gender confusion when female ships are actually male and vice versa. Hurray for gender neutral nouns and all that jazz.

Woo.

Anyways, assuming that the larger the craft is, the longer it takes, I'm… estimating that fighter class takes slightly less, corvettes probably around the same since the RHs are the same size as them, and frigates take half a day. Not going to even think about supercapitals right now.

Let's take a quick check. I rummaged through my mind until I found what I was looking for. With a thought, I summoned my own personal database search engine program from the depths of the Mothership and tasked it with a series of instructions. In less than a minute, it came back, and, with my permission, knowledge instantly materialized at the forefront of my mind, listing the exact details of all the ship classes I could build as the Mothership.

Thank you. I said to the program, and dismissed it. It may only be a piece of code, but it's still only polite.

What? Did you really think I was going to dig through miles and miles of raw data until I strike paydirt? Puh-lease. I don't have the bloody time for that.

I skimmed through most of the content until I found what I was looking for. Okay. Well, I was mostly right. Fighters take an hour, corvettes a couple, and frigates a full day. Destroyers, three days, and both the Carriers and Battlecruisers a full week.

I sighed. This, is going to take a while. And I don't have the fancy time dilation or splitting of consciousness I've read that Commanders have to pass the time. Yippee.

Alright, now that my economy is now on the recovery, time for the next step: solving my lack of a crew. I was fortunate enough to have an emergency override on all my 'crafts that allows some limited autonomous operations. But with what I have in mind, just having the bare basics isn't enough. I need independent, loyal, and competent personnel who are able to perform a variety of tasks ranging anywhere from combat to maintenance and able to infer what is needed based only on the vague commands of a teenager with only a high school level of education - something that will soon be absolutely crucial for our continued existence. And since I'm fresh out of any organic crewmembers, I'll have to make my robotic equivalent, something that might be nigh impossible if I had to do it from scratch and alone.

Guess it's a good thing I got some Progenitor AIs inside my database, then. I don't remember exactly whether it was a gift or "repurposed," but somehow the Mothership managed to come across the ancient Progenitors' fully autonomous corvettes, called the Movers. With this, now enter the Research Facility, stage left.

In the gaming community, the Homeworld series are absolutely notorious for their insane reverse engineering speed. As in, once they get their hands on captured enemy's assets, they were not only able to understand its capabilities in minutes and implement the perfect counters to them, but also use them on their own side. Arguable this is more of a result of game mechanics than anything else, but even if one take into account of a real life timetable equivalent, it still makes the Hiigarans an extremely dangerous opponent to face.

Something I'm going to abuse the absolute heck out of it.

I established a connection to my Research Facility resident AIs, relayed them my request and a copy of the Progenitor Mover AI, and then asked what would be the estimated time until completion.

Their answer? Thirty to forty-five minutes. Not the prototypes, mind you, but the final mass-producible product that I can implement for a fully realized autonomous fleet.

Good God is that overpowering. And I love it. No nerfs, please.

Good thing that Homeworld has some pretty good AIs. The Progenitors' been around for like thousands of years, but they haven't deviated from their directives throughout their long vigil. I shiver at the thought of what kind of monster I would've unleashed on the Multiverse if they rebelled against me.

It isn't pretty.

With that out of the way, now I just need to swap out the internal AI for all my 'crafts once the R&D finish, something that shouldn't be too difficult.

Alright, let's review: my economy's on the mend, with my current production of more RHs once the timer is off. That's checked. My fully autonomous fleet is now under the first step toward completion, so that's checked as well. Now, anything else?

Huhmm… Oh! Before I forget, I took a look at my RUs and queued up another batch of Harvesters right behind my first.

There. Now I just need to keep an eye on my RUs and match accordingly. Once my new Harvesters are done, I can use even more of my facilities and so on.

Anything else? Well, no, not really. No activity that I need to do. No resources that I must pursue. Nothing except to wait until my economy's recovered and my research's done before moving on to expand. And considering my origins, what better way to pass the time than to catch up on my strategic and tactical knowledge by preusing everything the Mothership has stored on military doctrines? The extent of my admittedly amateurish grasp on the military doesn't exactly includes to the three dimensional battlefield that is space. I mean, it wasn't like my siblings ever went to space to fight a war.

Heh. I've always did consider myself to be more of an Army brat than a Navy. Talk about irony.

So naturally, with an eye on my sensors, I settled down, opened a military documentary on the Homeworld War, and began to read.


	4. Entry IV

Entry IV

It took ten hours after Phase Jumping in before I had enough Resource Harvesters and RUs to kickstart my production facilities into high gears. After that, I became a _very_ busy bee to make up for the time I spent studying the Mothership's databases and drafting plans of action.

First off, the new AI my R&D developed is an astounding success. I'll spare you the exact details, but suffice to say that with the integration of my new synthetic crewmembers and HAVOC's personal handling of their loyalty programming and LANTERN generator, my Fleet is more than ready to go into action. Once I had all of my RHs and beginning strikecrafts retrofitted and updated my schematics, I began a massive construction project, with a dash of research and some reconnaissance here and there, to carry out my agenda.

My plan, short term wise, is quite simple, really: secure this system, gather intel, and expand. With literally no idea where exactly I am, I need to have a secure base of operations so I can send out reconnaissance squadrons to figure out where exactly I am, while also building up my military might to combat any threat I might and probably will encounter. To do that, I need access to resources beyond just having a single system under my control. I have to be careful, though. With no intel and just fresh out of an EXCEL Phase Jump, I need to be covert so to avoid causing conflicts with any natives I might encounter.

Long term wise… is pretty much up in the air at this moment. Can't really plan any reasonable course of action when I have no real idea what might be on the other side, after all. Which is precisely why I'm trying to secure a base.

So, to do that, I spent approximately a little more than over a week just building. Quite honestly, it was quite the sight to witness. Countless strikecraft bays churning out fighters, corvettes, and utility ships in the thousands by the hours, while the frigates, frigate-sized mobile refineries, and capitals ships were assembled at a much slower rate and quantity. I had also had some sections of what would become a series of space drydocks that were being carefully built and escorted out to be welded together to further the construction efforts. Asteroids were tugged aboard and devoured for precious, precious RUs to fuel such an undertaking, while swarms of Harvesters stream in and out of the Mothership alongside the 'crafts that were coming out.

It was little wonder I have to constantly migrate within the asteroid belt for fresh RUs. And the feel of moving within the Hyperspace… in comparison to that black hole, it was just… mhmm. So much more _pleasant_ than before.

The only real kicker was the waiting. The _one_ thing that Commanders really didn't have to worry about. So, in order to pass the time, I did some combat simulations with my ships to practice out my strategic and tactical skills, sent out frigate squadrons modified with some hastily assembled hangar bays filled to the brim with probes and satellites to recon the system, repainted my ships to be black with white borders with a new sigil - basically a circle in the middle of wings' whose edges are straightened out - as I'm not a Hiigaran, and dappling in my much beloved R&D.

Still haven't came up with a good name for myself, though. Half of them were cheesy as all get-out, the other half were just fancy titles that didn't really have any truth to them. The best I got was just simply installing my last name to the word 'Fleet'.

The Blackwater Fleet. Sounds menacing, really.

...Not quite sure how I should feel about that. Ah, well. I'll figure that one out. Eventually. Until then, I guess I'll just stick with the simple one?

Man, coming up with names is _hard_. Go figure.

Research, on the hand, were both incredibly easy and just as absolutely fascinating.

That… might have to do with the fact that it's my R&D AIs doing the real work, and I'm more of a spectator… or the superior officer reading the project summary.

With my new AI now on board, it spawned a whole new series of projects I could look into and develop. Mundane items, weaponry, infantry platforms, vehicles, and etcetera. Anything that has electronics in it, really, I can stick an AI to it. Pretty useful, really, not only in terms of spying and espionage when in enemy's hands, but as well as countless other subjects - research, labor, combat, and etcetera. I made sure my research teams were able to split consciousness so they can juggle multiple projects at once.

Freakin' AIs, man.

The more fascinating projects I actually personally took an interest in involves ground ops. Planetary bases, infantry, vehicles… as most of my more tried and tested hardware were more intended for space, the development of ground troops fascinated me greatly.

Quite honestly, most of my ground troops were actually these huge combat vehicles the Hiigarans used since their Exile on Kharak. Because, you know, nothing says 'screw you and all your loved ones' than a tank bigger than an apartment building coming right down on your head. They had their whole arsenal of vehicles saved inside the Mothership's databases - a just in-case, I would guess. They even have a land version of the Carrier, fully capable of building everything for the ground pounders. It's not as big as the one in space, but… it's still bigger than its ancestor.

I swear, it's like every generation of Hiigarans vehicles just keep getting bigger and bigger. What they're trying to do one-up each other?

So with my new AIs, we just removed the now unnecessary space reserved for the crew and added some slight adjustment. Like installing the piloting AI and, more importantly, making it even bigger for even more stuffs.

Of course, big and bigger armored cavalry can only solve so many problems. And that is where the infantry fits in, for situations too small and too delicate for giant robots. The R&D eventually came up with two variants of the same platform to fulfill the Fleet's standard infantry. They were dozens of others that were considered, but these two were, in the end, to be selected.

The first one, which I ended up calling the Titan, was a 1.8 meter tall armored suit with a resident AI, reminiscent of my own personal suit I woke up in, and painted with the black and white colors of the Fleet. The second one, the Disciple, is a carefully crafted android to look exactly like a human, with a performance level equal to a Titan battle drone and has their own personal body armor that looks exactly like the Titans. Both of them can wield any weapons inside the Fleet's arsenal with peerless expertise and accuracy, are absolutely devastating in close quarters combat, and has the downloaded knowledge and skills of Hiigara's finest soldiers. They are, without questions, the finest infantry a man could ask for.

As you can see, there really isn't any kind of practical difference between a Titan and a Disciple besides cosmetics. Like, for example, the Disciple doesn't have the same kind of armor the Titan carries around naturally, but it can make it up by wearing armor just like a human soldier. Or the fact that a Titan battle drone can carry weapons that are practically an extension of their platform, while also being modified on the fly, like installing treads for certain terrain for speed, or grav hover generators for aerial transport and the like. The only difference I could even see is that besides just cost and time to manufacture, the Disciple is meant to look, act, and be a human soldier, while the Titan is just a modular killbot that can modified whenever the situation warrants it.

And to support my standard infantry for situations when they either can't or didn't bring enough dakka to the mission is my little Dragonfly, an aerial infantry support drone about the size of a motorcycle filled out with MGs, missiles, and an AI. And it's just as modular as the infantry drones it supports, capable of swapping out missiles, on-board weaponry, and etcetera within minutes.

The key thing here is that the standard Titan, Disciple, and Dragonfly are meant to be versatile, swapping out weapons, internal electronics, and armor where the situation warrants it, often times literally, but through different methods. They're my soldiers. They're a call back to when we only to when humans were the only reliable method of war, although the equipment or tools they used changed. But just because I have, ah, conventional means of carrying out death doesn't mean I don't look at other, just as efficient means of killing.

War's an ugly business. Which is why it is best to end it as quickly and swiftly as possible. And sometimes that means being brutal.

The R&D developed this tiny little drone to look like an insect the size of your hand. I call it the Hunter Killer, and this adorable little critter was built to be a true cold, shrewd killing machine. Poison, projectile, blunt trauma, bladed legs - those are but just a few means it has to dispose of its prey. It is meant to kill, and by any means necessary. It is not an assassin drone. An assassin drone is the type of drone meant to neutralize the target without anyone being aware - before, during, and after the hit. Especially after. An assassin drone is the subtle knife in the dark that no one ever knows was ever there. This is anything but. This is made for when something must absolutely, positively die, but without any unnecessary collateral damage. It's a killer drone. A Hunter Killer drone.

I did consider calling it the Facehugger after _Aliens_ , but decided against it, as it wasn't apt enough.

The Hunter Seeker, on the other hand, is a non-lethal - well, _less_ lethal - variant of the Hunter Killer, for capture and interrogation. Still the same size, but packs a different punch. And the Beowolf is a mechanical drone built to look and be just like a wolf in situations where the Hunter Killer isn't suitable for. It could also, in a pinch, serve as a sort of a reconnaissance.

Wolves are extremely efficient hunters. The only reason they couldn't overcome the knights were because their teeth weren't made to overcome armor. Mine doesn't have that kind of problem, along with having some backup. Like missiles and anti-infantry kinetic weaponry fitted to the sides.

Yes, I'm ripping off of RoosterTeeth's RWBY. What they're going to do, sue me?

To carry and build all of my ground troops, my R&D ended up taking up a Marine Frigate, stripping it out to make more room, installed a modified munition fabrication system the Torpedo Frigate uses for my ground ops, added a hangar bay and some more compartments here and there, bolted some armor over them, and called it a day. So I now have a frigate whose purpose is ground ops construction, transportation, and deployment. So naturally, I named it the Mobile Army Rapid Deployment Frigate, or just D-Day Frigate, in honor of the Normandy invasion of World War II.

Naturally, these are just the highlights that my Research and Development came out with. No mention of slight improvements of the standard technology. No word of prototype warships being developed, like the Bullhead Frigate, a more heavily armored variant of the Marine Frigate whose main attack is a head-on collision so it could gorge out its passengers, or the Nanoswarm Frigate that shoots, or trying to shoot, laser beams with nanomachines inside them manufactured to take control of enemy starships, in imitation of the dreaded Beast.

No, I am not dumb enough to let the R&D experiment with _that_ particular hardware without proper supervision and maximum security. Which, in this case, means having several explosives next to the reactors and Hyperspace Core set to blow if anything suspicious goes wrong, along with all its escorts' weapon batteries brought to bear against it in a secluded place. I ended up disbanding the project, as there were too many things that could go wrong and it wasn't worth the risk of having a nanite-Beast mucking around. Some good things that came out of it were greater improved nanotechnology and faster nanofabrication speed, shaving roughly ten percent off of my build speed on all class.

Another project my R&D tried their hands on were reverse-engineering HAVOC's toys: the LANTERN Psychic Shield Generator and the EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway. Suffice to say, they couldn't make head or tail of either of them. The LANTERN was apparently just a crucifix inscribed on whatever it's trying to protect, imitates an anomalous energy signature, could be replicated, although exactly how and why still remain unknown, and despite testing and numerous attempts, remain practically virtually undamaged by any physical means meaning to harm it.

Seriously. They ended up slagging everything _except_ the LANTERN when they used an ion cannon array on it.

The EXCEL Transdimensional Gateway is a smiley face drawn on the surface of the Hyperspace Core. In pink marker. And accordingly to my cameras, when it is in use, it gives off a similar, but different, energy signature as the LANTERN generator and glows silver. And any attempts at replicating remain an absolute failure, unlike the LANTERN. It gotten so bad that the lead AI insisting on labeling it Things That Which We Do Not Understand (Yet). I mean, it's not like he's wrong, per se, but… yeah, let's just leave at that.

HAVOC is even less helpful, except to say that the shape or size LANTERN varies from individual. The only reason why the LANTERN is in the shape of the crucifix is due to the strong belief of the beholder. He has no clue about EXCEL gateway.

So in other words, I got an indestructible tattoo in the shape of a cross that apparently protects my soul from demons and a pink smiley face that teleports me across dimensions. Uh, woo?

I'm not sure how my family would feel about this. On one hand, I'm pretty safe holed up inside the _Pride of Hiigara_ and my Fleet. On the other hand, I travel dimensions because of this weird pink smiley face and have a tattoo.

Eh. At least it isn't embarrassing or anything. Still, would've been nice if my EXCEL gateway was, like, a cat or something. So I would actually have somebody to talk to.

I thought about it, having a child AI (or five) so I could actually have someone to talk to, just like all those transdimensional Commanders I've read about it. In the end, I decided against it. Children are a really big deal. They're not something to be casual about or do it alone with. They're sacred, and they deserve the best I could give them.

Power never interested me, quite honestly. I've always wanted to follow the footsteps of my parents and settle down with a nice girl and have a big family. And right now, any children of mine deserve better than this, being raised by a lonely seventeen year old Fleet Command far away from home. They deserve to have a stable home, a loving father and mother, and a bright future to look forward to. Something that I can't give them just yet.

Maybe some other time, but not today.

Which is precisely when an update from a recon squadron popped up with the latest picture - wait a minute.

A blue planet, with two giant continents on the left and the right, a continental-sized tree off the shores of the upper half of the leftern-most continent, another set of continents near the north and south, a humongous whirlpool right in the center, and two moons.

I recognize this.

Satellite images followed shortly. Forests, deserts, tundra, farmlands, and dead, twisted lands crawling with sickness and disease. Cities of every variety, from broken ruins of something vaguely Medieval Western to short, squat, geometric towers and gates sprouting off the side of a snow-laden mountain to a once-proud and elegant city of white, red, and gold, cleaved into two.

And I could see species of every kind - people that I can see and recognize. A human farmer out working in his field. A bronze skinned elf with ridiculously long ears and glowing green eyes leading her brethren against a swarm of advancing skeletons. Short and stocky dwarves with long flowing beards and bulging muscles labored away in outdoor forges with their diminutive and candy-colored cousins, the gnomes. And more. So much more that I know of - green-skinned orcs, the cow-like Taurens, trolls, the Undead, and goblins. And even more. Demons. Furbolgs. Kobolds. Griffins. Wyverns. Giant bats.

Azeroth. I'm in freaking _Azeroth_.

Hoo boy. This won't end well.


	5. Entry V

Entry V

I considered my situation. Tens of thousands of strikecrafts, frigates in triple digits, and the _Pride of Hiigara_. And that's just my combatants for space. Against the Azerothians, a civilization locked on their homeworld and still stuck in their pseudo-medieval age, it was nothing less than overkill.

That wasn't what worried me, though. What worried me was the primary antagonist of the entire _Warcraft_ franchise, the Burning Legion.

A demonic force Hell bent on complete annihilation of all of Creation, the Burning Legion was created and lead by the fallen Titan, Sargeras, since time immemorial, slashing and burning countless worlds in their eternal campaign. Already, once bright and powerful civilizations in their own right have fallen under the Legion's sway, either tempted away like the Eredar, or crushed ruthlessly underfoot such as the Eredar's exiled cousins, the Draenei.

Of course, considering the fact that this apparently ancient evil was repeatedly bested by a handful of the galactic equivalent of backwater hillbillies, I'm not quite sure if they are as dangerous as the locals are lead to believe. Still, to underestimate the Burning Legion would be a foolish mistake until I have more accurate, up-to-date intel on the Legion's forces.

Regardless, with this reveal, it means I have even more urgency to secure more territory and soldiers for the war to come. I dispatched squadrons of resource refineries, freighters outfitted with Resource Harvesters, and escorting frigates to nearby systems for harvesting RUs and on-site construction, while deploying the rest to transform this system I inhabit into a fully dedicated and impenetrable war factory. Weapon platforms of various sizes and models, shipyards to churn out my vessels, the work. 'Crafts rushed to obey my commands, immediately organizing themselves into formation and slipping through Hyperspace or getting to work.

I nodded to myself and turned my attention to the frigates orbiting Azeroth. Data entered my mind and gave me a more detailed report over Azeroth. I waited a moment to marshal my thoughts and correlate the sitrep with what I know, and sighed.

Kalimdor was largely peaceful. I have seen no signs of the war between the night elves' Silverwing Sentinels and the orcish Warsong clan that have been going on since the MMORPG _World of Warcraft_ first began - Ashenvale Forest and the lands above it have signs of regrowth, while the orcish city of Orgrimmar was still being under construction. Likewise, the remaining Alliance on Kalimdor focused on building their only stronghold, the city of Theramore. In all, it was a time of peace before the storm spent rebuilding, but peace regardless.

The Eastern Kingdoms… not so much. Lordaeron and many of her sister kingdoms have already become consumed by the Scourge, the remnants of the once Grand Alliance now battling the Scourge for control of their homeland. Only Stormwind and Gilneas remain intact, the former by the virtue of distance, the latter due to its isolation and the Greymane Wall. Northrend, on the other hand, was held in the icy grip of the Lich King in all its entirety, while Pandaria still remain largely undiscovered.

I narrowed my eyes. The Scourge. So the Forsaken haven't yet freed themselves from the Lich King's grasp. Interesting.

There was no doubt with what I would do. Even if they were just a bunch hillbillies, there was no reason why I shouldn't aid the Azerothians in their conflict against the Burning Legion. In time, they might prove to be fruitful allies, but that day is a long way off. Plus, there are quite a few events I would like to prevent before they get out of hand.

But first, the Scourge. Considering that natural disasters were enough to threaten the Lich King's casket and that there was not one speck of any remaining living people left, an orbital bombardment would be more than perfect in slicing off the leadership of the Scourge. Plus, the Lich King was on a spire sticking far away from the ground and completely immobile. How fortunate for me.

Unfortunately, offing Ner'zhul would have the side effect of releasing the Scourge into a mindless frenzy. A few would retain enough willpower to have their own free will and identity, but the rest would just simply kill, kill, or die. And what I want is much, much more than just simply eliminating one of the few remaining Legion's pawns.

The Lich King did more than just animate and control dead bodies: he has effectively enslaved the souls and will of those he killed. Mental enslavement is by far one of the greatest sins a man could commit, for it directly violates the sanctity and free will of its victim and replaces it with their master's whim. It is sickening and evil, and it deserves instant and immediate justice - preferable with extreme prejudice.

Ner'zhul took away his victims' lives, their freedom, their will, and their very being without thought and without remorse. I would like to return them. By force, if necessary.

I would like to think few things make me angry that I would gleefully put everyone responsible to the sword. This, this is one of them.

 _And I will not tolerate this._

Without hesitation, five D-Day frigates, carrying a brigade each, Jumped from my belt into Azeroth's orbit and began to descend. Like a red, hot spear flung into the air, the five heavily armed and armored transports, each at about a klick and a half long, plunged into the night and rainy sky above Lordaeron, streams of heat and pressure billowing out from them as they opened up their bays and mass deployed their complement of dropships and fighters in a swarm that blanket the sky.

 _And just like that, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked._

A/N: Yeah, an update. Not a particularly big one, and probably unnecessary, but it's done, and I promise that the next one will be much, much action involved. Promise.


	6. Entry VI (Revised)

A/N: Sorry for the late response. I really have no excuse besides being lazy... Sorry! Anyways, responding to the reviews now:

 **Guest (** **Entry I Review):** This is precisely why I am writing, so I can gain experience and receive feedback. So thank you, I'll try to work on it as I go. On the second, it just how I do HAVOC's dialogue. Personally, I don't feel any need to really change it, but if enough people say it's distracting, I will. But as it is, I'm going to leave it be.

 **Guest (Entry IV Review):** Well, no, this isn't a crack fic. This was primarily inspired by a series of multiverse SI fics on forums I frequent where the SI jump between worlds, the most common trend as a PA Commander. If you wish to read them, you can find them on SpaceBattles and Sufficient Velocity.

 **Guest Q (Entry IV Review):** That, and personally I absolutely despise any kinds of mental tampering, so I buffed my SI with the LANTERN. Author bias.

 **Master-Debater69 (Entry IV & V Review): **Why, thank you!

Thank you guys for reading this fanfiction of mine. I hope you will enjoy the ride. Also, Read and Review, please. Reading other people's thoughts, commentaries, and criticisms is always the best part of writing I enjoy. So, without further ado, onto the Entry VI!

Entry VI

Disciple-186478-PFC sat inside the dropship, waiting alongside the rest of his squad. Rumbles and roars from outside sent shivers throughout their vehicle as it become settled for the op. His platoon's lieutenant and squad leader, Disciple-186468-LT, stood in front of them inside the transport, a rifle slung over his shoulder and his helmet held at his hip, silently gazing at each squad member with piercing blue eyes that seem to bespoke of years of experience on the battlefield despite their owner's actual age.

 _First Squad,_ Lieutenant 186468 said quietly on squad's private channel, ignoring the deafening noise as the pilot AI prepped the engines, _I know_ Battle Hymn _has already uploaded the mission's detail to your databases already, but we must follow SOP._

PFC 186478 could feel the Lieutenant mentally accessing the on-board hologram projector system, causing a mini-Azeroth to bloom to life. The hologram zoomed in on the northern half of the eastern continent, revealing the AO in all its microscopic glory.

 _As of thirty minutes ago at 0646 local time, the_ Scarlet Popsicle Stick _, the_ Beanie Bag _, and the_ Lollypop _discovered a terrestrial world called Azeroth by the native humans and near human analogues that inhabit the planet. These natives are combating against an undead menace known as the Scourge on the eastern continent, and they are losing. Badly. Command wants to change that._

The dropship suddenly began shaking hard, but the Lieutenant continued as if nothing was happening. _Command is deploying five MARD frigates and their brigades for this op. Our mothership, the_ Battle Hymn of the Republic _, and the 21st Brigade Combat Team are to secure the Scourge's HQ stationed in this city, while the rest are to seize control of other, just as vital objectives. The_ Battle Hymn i _s to enter directly above our target and deploy the 21st en masse, while her point defense turrets and her fighters will provide covering fire._

Five D-Day frigate icons appeared over the AO, displaying their names and their respective brigade - _Battle Hymn of the Republic_ and 21st Brigade Combat Team, _Apostle's Creed_ and the 22nd Brigade Combat Team, _America the Beautiful_ and the 23rd, _Star Spangled Banner_ and the 24th, and _Silent Night_ and the 25th. Tiny dropships and fighters spilled out of the frigates' bays as the hologram zoomed even closer, showing the ruined city at the center of the AO in even greater detail. Fighters skirmishes with the Scourge's holographic gargoyles while the transports disgorged Disciples, Titans, and Dragonflies as they battled the city's defenders.

 _We will be going in two waves: Wave One is to secure the area; Wave Two is to clean up after Wave One and secure and quarantine any survivor. As Company A will be deploying with the rest of the 5th Battalion into the heart of the city, we're going to be part of Wave One. Once we've secured the center, the 5th Battalion would work with the rest of the 21st Brigade in taking control of the city, while Wave Two does their job once they are deployed. Weapons are free until further notice. VIPs are to be called out to Command and once he has given his consent, are to be taken alive. Any questions?_

There were none. Lieutenant 186468 took a seat as he replaced his helmet. _First Squad, sound off. Alpha-1, present._

 _Alpha-2, here._

 _Alpha-3, online._

 _Alpha-4, ready for combat._

It continued down the list. When it came for 186478, he just simply said, _Alpha-11, active._ Disciple-186479-PFC, the Disciple to his right, finished the roll call as Alpha-12. The Lieutenant cocked his head as the rest of 3rd Platoon finished their own roll call before notifying the company commander. The hologram before First Squad vanished without a trace.

With nothing to do except to wait, PFC 186478 checked his gear. Standard issue black body armor with helmet and backpack, ammunition pouches on his chest and belt, his combat knife, his sidearm in its storage compartment, his rifle, and grenades. Considering the enemy's technology, he doubted they could scarcely put a scratch on him.

Everything is in place. Excellent.

An alert popped on his HUD from the _Battle Hymn_. It read, _Operation BUTTERFLY beginning in one minute. Stand by._ 186478 immediately perked up. Soon. It will begin soon.

He could feel the shaking though his boots as _Battle Hymn of the Republic_ dove through the atmosphere alongside her sister ships, and counted down the seconds. He thought of interfacing with the dropship, but then decided that she wouldn't appreciate a Disciple poking around her hardware.

5… 4… 3… 2…

 _Clunk._

With a sudden lurch, the dropship screamed forward. The pilot sent a message to the squad's comm. _30 seconds!_

 _Get ready,_ said the Lieutenant through the comm.

 _Affirmative._ They all replied.

186478 readied his weapon. The dropship suddenly pulled up, and the pilot lowered the ramp, revealing a rain-swept cobblestone street stringed with rubbles and ghouls. _Go! Go! Go!_ She yelled.

PFC 186479 and Disciple-186477-PFC, being closest to the back, released their harnesses and leapt out of the dropship. They fired a burst, rolled, and scanned the area. _Clear_ , 186479 said.

186478 thundered down the ramp with the rest of Alpha Squad. As they swept the area, the dropship kicked off into the chaotic sky.

It was, indeed, absolutely chaotic. Interceptors and dropships screamed through the night sky, short, controlled bursts of weaponfire drowned out the screams and moans of the Scourge undead, and the _Battle Hymn_ hovered over it all amid the black clouds and lightning, a sword of judgment announcing its sentence over the condemned city and still red-hot from her descent.

She was so beautiful.

They advanced down the street, unhindered by the heavy rain, the Lieutenant, Disciple-186469-SGT, and Disciple-186473-PFC taking point and PFC 186478 covering the rear with '77 and '79, and passed by piles of corpses swarmed by flies as they moved. Alpha Squad moved as if one organism, utterly in sync with each other and every move calculated for the maximum effectiveness. 186478 barely batted an eye when Sergeant '69 shouted out, _Contact up front!_ and everyone facing the front opened up and cleared out the pack of zombies he highlighted stumbling out of the buildings in less than five seconds.

 _On the right._ Gunfire. _Tangos down._ Move on. _Hostiles._ Gunfire. _All clear._ Advance. _Necromancer spotted._ A single shot. _Tango down_. Rinse and repeat. Zombies, skeletons, banshees, or wizards - it didn't matter what they faced. All of them go down with a single bullet in the head and inferior reflexes.

The Lieutenant stopped the squad in front of an old temple with broken window. _Twenty four hostile. Ten ghouls, eight skeletons, four banshees, and two Necromancers._ He said after a moment, highlighting them on the HUD. 186478 could see them beyond the stone wall, crouched and waiting. _Alpha-2 to 8, Claw formation. Assaulting. 9, 10, 11, and 12, Delta._

186478 acknowledged and moved to comply. The four of them formed a loose half-circle over the entrance as everyone else stormed the temple. Lightning flashed, throwing jagged shadows everywhere. Blue figures advanced forward as the red leapt at them. Unholy screams erupted, only to be interrupted by quick, precise gunfire.

186478 estimated that they would be out in one minute, when Disciple-186476-PFC suddenly lowered his rifle a little and looked around, confused. _Alpha-10, receiving this?_ PFC '76 said. _Sensors picking up interference. Hostile keep blinking in and out of radar._

 _Negative, 9, I -_ '77 paused, then, _Correction. Sensors are getting jammed as well._

186478 eyeballed his HUD. The radar screen was, indeed, acting sporadically, showing hostile and allies where they weren't there. Surprising. _Exercise caution._ 186478 chimed in. _It's possible the Scourge running interference using their magic._ Battle Hymn _should be able to neutralize it in a few minutes._

 _Contact,_ PFC '79 said, _Up on the roof._

186478 looked up. A pack of ghouls looked down on them, their beady, rotting eyes peeking out of the rooftops around them and clearly perceptible despite the heavy weather. 186478 counted sixteen as he drew bead on what he guessed was once a red headed human female. _Tactics?_ He asked.

They were outnumbered four to one. He could guess that, in this weather, they thought they were hidden and sought to ambush them using their superiority in numbers.

 _Standard,_ was the response. Nodding, the Disciples opened fire and scythed down three fourth of the ghouls before their quarries could even react.

How unfortunate for them that they were so wrong.

The survivors recoiled as their comrades' heads burst open like grapes. _Targets locked._ '79 said. _Initiating attack._ His rifle blurred as he picked them one by one. They scanned the area, their rifles at the ready.

 _Clear_. 186478 said after a few moments. _But if sensors are being jammed, then -_

A building on the opposite side of the street suddenly exploded, peppering stone and debris that forced the Disciples to duck. A hulking mass of flesh and entrails emerged from the hole it made, a meat cleaver and hook clutched in its stitched-up hands. Slavering swarms of ghouls and skeletons followed in its wake, charging forward to meet them.

They didn't need any prompting. '77, 186478, and '79 let loosed, while '76 went for his belt. _Throwing grenade._ He said as he threw a small sphere in the middle of the swarm. A ball of plasma lit up the street, taking the lumbering flesh giant and the heart of the swarm and gouged a hole in the street, but it still left six still charging at them.

186478 and '77 was able to eliminate a skeleton each before he judged they have entered melee range. _Cover me. Entering CQC._ He said.

 _Understood. Providing covering fire._

186478 took a single step forward and slammed his rifle's stock in the lead ghoul's head. He spun on his toes, parried a sword stroke from a skeleton with his rifle, dropped it, grabbed his opponent, and threw it into another ghoul in mid-pounce. They slammed into each other in a bone-snapping _crack!_ before falling to the ground, prone, giving 186478 enough time to stomp on their heads and finish them off. _Clear._

186478 was picking up his dropped rifle when the Lieutenant and the rest of Alpha Squad finally emerged from the temple, splattered in gore. The Lieutenant took one glance at the corpses before asking, _Jamming?_

186478 nodded. _Affirmative._ He took a look at his HUD and saw it has already stabilized. He cocked his head and asked, _Magic?_

 _The Necromancers have been eliminated._ The Lieutenant replied. _Apologies for not responding more quickly, but we had to secure the temple._

He nodded. _Understood._

The Lieutenant patted him before moving on. _First Squad_. _Form up, Claw formation. Alpha 11, take point with 9, 10, and 12. 5, bring up the rear. Advance._

186478 took a look at his ammunition counter and reloaded, before moving to comply, this time taking point as he was ordered. The excitement he felt before has already died down, replaced by determination to complete his mission.

Such was life in the Fleet. Even if Command has offered an alternative, he doubted he would have changed it for any other. He was a Disciple. What else could he do but follow?


End file.
